August 5, 2009
posted by Caroline Picard
- A very small man sat beside a very small boy at a bus stop. It was bright outside and both squinted against the sun; both ate breakfast also: an egg english muffin that looked to have been made at home. “It’s Ok,” the father said, looking down at his nine year-old. “We’re just small people.” Something about the way this was said. I’m not sure I understand it, for the boy seemed not to be listening, his eyes focused on the patch of cement in front of the bench, his mouth chewing the sandwich; he nevertheless sat up straighter and an almost imperceptable flush of pride stole across his fine features. He stopped chewing and gazed long at his own hands.
- A woman rested on another woman in the park. A third lay perpendicular as a witness. The first was chatty, her voice brassy, she punched through her words like one might kick through gravel. “I know I shouldn’t have told her about Pete, but really. I’m a tattle tale. I can’t keep that in.”
- At a table a young man spoke of endangered fruit. He said he wanted to save them. He was petitioning the city, he said, to start a farm in an abandoned lot. He asked you to sign the petition.